A Yellow Fringe

I took off the purple paper liner and the golden twist tie from yesterday and laid them neatly beside my boots. You mentioned blonde hair for that disguise, but I am green and gold. Near the fringe of the rug, I noticed a frayed piece of yellow yarn tangled around a chair leg. Nobody ordered me to cut it or make war. I unhooked my dagger holster and laid it down flat on the wood planks so both gloves were bare. I pulled the strand loose with my fingers and draped the soft yellow threads straight across the top curve of my helmet. They hung down over my gold crest like loose, quiet straw. I sat on my heels and tapped my knees with my palms. It feels soft and strange.